ice and fire are in our souls
by Sun struck
Summary: "They are the fools that would get themselves killed by their souls." Katniss notices her soul is burning whereas Cato's soul is frozen in time / Catoniss. One-shot. Rewrite of Ice


**A/N:** Well, this rewrite/sequel is as follows: readers wanted a sequel and I wanted to update **Ice**. In retrospect, it was pretty embarrassing and I have half a mind to go and delete it but I won't. It has its charming parts, I guess and it was my first fan fiction that I posted on the site. Anyways, I'm glad this sequel/rewrite happened because it is much longer than anything I have written and I feel my writing has improved so much. This is unedited as far as it should go. I mean, I wrote and typed the story but I haven't given it a final full read through. I'm just getting really tired with this fan fiction because I have been working on this fan fiction for so long. I will do the editing later, though. So anyways, if you happen to find any typing errors or any others for that matter, kindly let me know. Thanks.

I hope this is a continuation of **Ice** in a way. Enjoy!

Also of course, I do not own Hunger Games in any form and do not intend to make any profit whatsoever. 

* * *

I can see your head in the crowd  
Like the sun through the clouds  
You're always turning me inside out

But it falls through the cracks in the glass  
When you move it too fast  
And the time it turns inside out

But the mortal isn't lost on me  
I know I'll never see  
The light

 _-Inside out_ , Andrew Austin

* * *

Katniss' flitting eyes take in every tribute, and this she realizes makes her hold her breath. The other tributes – even though most of them haven't been fed properly – are bigger than her. She presses her lips together but she knows how to be hungry, how to distinguish between plants. She will survive, not just for Prim anymore but to show everyone else as well.

The exceptions are those from the wealthier districts – the career tributes. She takes a step backward from their jarring eyes, almost bumps in to Peeta and slowly understands that the winner will be them this year.

It happens every time. Suddenly, the urge for a bow and arrow to be in the games overwhelms her because even if she can use the other weapons, the bow and arrow belong to her.

She looks up and locks eyes with the district two boy. He is a machine made for mass destruction and one of the few tributes here that scares her. He starts walking to ward her and Katniss curses herself.

"Tell me something, 12," he says. He holds a knife in one hand and his lips pull back into a smirk. His eyes are fuzzy and dull (like just before a kill) and blue. She turns away from him and faces Peeta's eyes.

"Are you afraid to die by any chance?" he drawls.

Katniss lifts her face to his, sees Peeta stiffen in her peripheral vision and looks into his blue, blue eyes (they are colder that she imagined, she realizes with sickening clarity). She feels as if she is surrounded by water that wants to pull her over and drown her. She purses her lips and looks away.

He snickers and is about to turn away when she calls out in a voice that scares him: "Aren't we all?"

He turns back to her and there is a startling clarity in his eyes for a moment. It scares her, she realizes as goosebumps crawl along her flesh. ' _Why?'_ she thinks. _'Because he is a monster.'_ She tells herself not to blink.

She blinks anyways and the look in his eyes turn to stone. _What a pity_. His eyes narrow and her fingers twitch nervously. He opens his mouth to say something, sees the district two girl standing and watching them with an unreadable face and (finally) decides to leave.

Peeta shoots her a curious look, his blue eyes wide (she tells herself his eyes are not the same shade as his). "What do you think he wanted?"

Katniss pauses, choosing her words carefully: "I think he wanted to see if we were becoming a treat," she says slowly.

"…are we?"

She bites her tongue. "Not yet."

Peeta nods, looks at the knots scattered around them and says in a careful voice, "would you like to finish the knots?".

She nods. It takes her a minute to put the feel of the ropes against her palm, the delight of the new knot: one that would leave their competitor dangling by their feet and the disgust that followed after in the right order. She swallows the bile in her throat, presses her lips together and refuses to think of what would happen after.

She sees a tribute dying by her hands. She shudders violently and tells herself to stop thinking.

She ties the know with shaking fingers and Peeta glances at her. "You have to tighten it as you pull it through the loop," he says gently, quietly. She wants to seethe at him, to tell himself to stop playing this thing (whatever this thing they are playing at is), to stop being so kind because he can't possible mean it. He must mean to betray her later like some kind of fool she is. He wants to catch her off-guard, wants to-

It dawns on her that he just sincerely wants to help. She bites her cheeks until she tastes the metallic taste of blood as he guides her hands.

His hands are cool to the touch, she notices. She leans away.

"Say we move on." His mouth presses downward as his eyes look away.

Katniss, her grey eyes wide, nods.

.

.

.

Their next station is the camouflage one. Peeta's face lights up- it is a toxic relief from all the misery that is smothering them. He glances at her and whispers in excitement: "I do the cakes".

Katniss frowns. "The cakes?"

A crease appears between his eyebrows. "The cakes in the display? On new year's eve?"

Katniss shifts her shoulders. She remembers Prim begging her to see the cakes – one of the few beauties in district 12. "Ahh, the cakes. What a useful skill frosting is."

Peeta stops his design and says in a voice coated with steel: "Anything can happen in the games. You could find anything in the games." He continues working on his design with more force.

Katniss looks at his design, a mass swirl of blueberry and leave stains hinting at forest with the light creeping through. She looks back at her own design: a pitiful clump of stains that could be mistaken for a forest with the light crippling the surroundings. Katniss tries, really hard to make her design look right but her focus keeps drifting to the other tributes, especially the careers. They have gone of to the most dangerous weapons. ' _Of course,_ ' Katniss thinks cynically. The careers handle their weapons with such ease and precision that Katniss could almost call it graceful but these are the careers and nothing is graceful about them.

Especially the boy from district two.

She watches as he throws a spear from the twenty-meter mark.

Step.

Pull back arm.

Throw.

As always, the spear hits the dummy with such ease and carelessness that it scares Katniss. 'We will all have to throw away our humanity in the games,' she realizes with quiet horror as she turns her eyes away from the district two boy.

She can still hear the sound the dummy makes when it is being ripped apart by the spear. There, she knows that that sound will haunt her dreams because it is so eerily similar when she kills the animals that keep her and her family alive. Gale's question ( _how is it any different_ ) comes back to her mind and she just knows that the aftermath will bring her to her knees in a pathetic way. She glances back at the district two boy and he is still throwing spears. For a second, she imagines herself in the dummy's place -defenseless and so obviously on the verge of death -and her eyes widen (from fear?) because that could very well happen in the games. "Yes, it could but I won't let it," she mutters uncertainly to herself. She lifts her face to find the boy from district two watching her. His lips form a cruel smirk as if to say: " _That is going to be you, fire girl. Better watch out."_

.

.

.

She learns indirectly that his name is Cato (a killing machine).

It sounds odd on her tongue when she says it like something holy. It sounds like a curse, like a name for a villain in those pretentious stories Prim is always begging her to read.

It tastes like power.

Katniss wonders if he knows her name as well.

She hopes he does.

.

.

.

It is the last day of training, and finally the day of their private session with the game makers. Katniss fidgets with her hands as all the tributes head out to lunch. As usual the careers gather around one table while the other tributes stoically sit spread out with their district partners. It seems to Katniss that the more distance between the other tributes, the better it is because then it is easier to dismiss the tributes as human. She hates the feeling of guilt that rains down on her and tries brushing it away but the mood suffocates her. A little voice in the back of her head hisses: "the careers at least recognize the tributes as human."

She glances at the career's table just to burn away her curiosity and sees Cato recounting something. His hands move dramatically and there are snickers from the group every now and then

Everything is set about him like a puppet on a string except for his eyes. They resemble a prey's when a predator is closing in on them. They look like the hunted.

His eyes are the ones of a prey who knows it is going to die.

It scares her because those should be her eyes, and not his

She purses her lips and looks away, and finally notices the silence.

Cato had finished recounting his story and the silence strangles her, almost silently demanding an answer. She turns her head to Peeta as if to catch her breath. She sees Peeta stiffen, sees how his shoulders have rolled in as if to protect himself. She sees a frown on his lips that pull downwards like a never ending spiral.

Katniss can guess what he is thinking about, what every tribute is thinking about: scores. ' _Scores are everything so I should- '_

"You should try to shoot straight," Peeta mumbles.

"You should"- she forces herself to look at him in his eyes and it sickens her that his eyes are only a few shades lighter than Cato's – "try to lift really heavy stuff."

He narrows his eyes like there is something wrong with what she said but he closes his eyes and turns away.

She bites her lips and the comparison between Cato and Peeta is making her sick with fear. Suddenly, she has the need to see Cato's eyes or else she will lose herself.

She looks up and catches Cato's eyes. He mimes the gesture of cutting a throat and she feels herself burning. It is as if her very soul is on fire.

She leans toward the direction of Cato, and her hand reaches forward. It is as she is trying to save herself because Cato is ice.

His soul is frozen in ice. Her soul is burning from fire. They are the fools that would get themselves killed with their own souls.

Peeta gently takes her arm and there is a soothing relief that gently spreads through her soul. She looks at him and it is as if she is drowning from the very blue of his eyes.

He leaves too soon, making her wonder what shade of blue Peeta's eyes are. She also wonders why he grabbed her arm and it clicks in her mind that it was all for act of staying a happy pact.

She trembles – fear? Anger? – she doesn't know. All she does know is that she messed up her only chance of winning: the scores. It scares her because she was being upstaged by a dead pig. It shows how much value the game makers have on the human life: they are just pawns for the capitol.

She shudders and steps into the elevator. Her skin prickles and there is a sensation of spiders crawling in her brain. She tells herself the spiders only exist in her mind. She tells herself to breathe.

She

Breathes

In

And

Out.

"What's going in on that mind of yours, fire girl?" The voice is rich velvet that makes Katniss think of a haven, but also reminds her of a dagger coated with ice. For a moment, she lets herself believe it is Peeta but of course it isn't.

It is Cato.

"Nothing!" she hisses, her voice caught in her throat. She moves to the farthest corner away from him.

"Really...? Well, it looks like you took a shit."

Katniss narrows her eyes and turns toward him. He is smirking at her and she is about to retort ( _well, have you looked at yourself)_ but her lips falter when she glares him in the eyes and something clicks in her mind.

His voice is dead: no emotion.

So this is the killing machine: Cato.

She opens her lips again and tries to say something, but nothing comes out. The silence around them swallows her, demanding an answer. It suffocates her and she tells herself –

The elevator dings and they (finally) reach the floor for district two. She thinks she sees something like relief on his face but his mask of indifference is back before she can confirm it.

He starts to leave but turns back to her and gives her a salute in mockery.

The elevator door closes before she can reply.

.

.

.

He finds her outside the elevators this time.

He smiles at her and she is suddenly reminded of the fear of being on a frozen lake and not knowing when the ice will thin out.

"How," he seethes, his blue eyes getting colder, "did you get that eleven? I would have thought, maybe a 5 or 6 at best an 8 before the interviews but 11 – and 11?" he sputters out. His eyes narrow as his smile hardens. "Thank goodness I was watching the shitty interviews," he hisses.

Katniss considers leaving to another elevator but decides against it. She can feel his glare, almost like an accusation so she stares him in the eye and struggles to say something, anything. She wonders if the truth – she shot at the game makers because they value a dead pig more than us – would be more dependable than lies. She hears him muttering incoherently. She thinks not.

" _Well?!"_ he roars. Jealousy and anger twist his handsome face and she is suddenly terrified. His anger, his hurt are the only things she can feel from him. For a brief moment, his composure cracks and there is raw pain in his voice. She thinks she sees hurt in his eyes like Katniss betrayed him somehow, but he turns around so his back faces her.

She stiffens and her fingers start to tremble. "Come on, stupid elevator! How many people need it anyways tonight?" She punches the up key hard and she thinks she might have broken the key.

"It is the night of the interviews. Besides, the capitol people want to be everywhere."

Katniss finds herself nodding and in rhythm, before she looses nerve, before their conversation evaporates, she answers in a voice that could kill: "I screwed up.".

There is a beat of silence: one two three then, "What?"

"To your question."

He finally turns back to her and opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

"What?" she almost yells.

Silence wraps around her like something that starves you of love. It reminds Katniss of all the animals she has killed with their hollow eyes and dull glory.

(It was like they knew they were going to die.)

"It's your dress," he brusquely says. His voice catches like he wants to add something important but he snaps his mouth close.

Katniss glares at him expectantly.

"You are on fire, 12."

She nearly spits the answer out: "That was the point!".

His eyes become off-cast, but then the elevator finally arrives. She hurries in and glances back at him.

"Well, if there is a point with your god-awful dress then there is a point with my suit after all," he drawls. He turns away from toward the number key pad and punches the 2 and 12 key. Katniss looks at him.

He is wearing a blue suit with reflective parts and it looks almost as if the rays of the sum have kissed those parts. She thinks it is supposed to make him robotic like a killing machine but he looks like ice.

"You look like ice," Katniss whispers softly.

He grunts in approval and the elevator dings for district two. He says nothing else as the elevator door slides open and he walks out.

Later, when she walks on to her floor and wants to throw Peeta out the window because of the full realization of what Peeta said hits her but settles for shoving him against the wall – there is a question ringing in her head like a bell.

It is louder than Haymitch's shouts – _he made you look desirable, sweetheart with your-your_ – and the voices of Cinna and Portia and Effie:

 _Calm down, Katniss._

 _It's okay._

 _It will help you._

Katniss wonders why Cato mentioned the dress.

.

.

.

She wakes up.

It's nearly twelve and the games are tomorrow, and now she is wide awake. She props herself on one arm, and just for a second she can imagine Prim being cocooned by their mother with Buttercup sitting at her knees, guarding her.

The light that is filtering through the room shifts and her illusion unravels. She sighs to herself a she fumbles for the remote on her nightstand. She changes the window to look like that of a forest and the sweet, soft lullaby to a mocking jay song.

She closes her eyes, and like she suspected she is not falling asleep. She hums – for the first time in a long time – something her father used to sing (something that even the birds would stop to listen) but her nerves are eating her alive.

She tries to think of Gale with his reliability and his olive eyes. She tries to think of him and his rants but all she can picture is the meadow and the hole in the fence.

She bites her cheek and thinks of Greasy Sae, of the goat man, of Rooba-

She sees herself and Gale only a few years older. They are somewhere, anywhere from the capitol. They look happy. They look alive.

She bites her cheeks until she draws blood and tells herself fiercely: "There is no point in the what-ifs.".

She sits awkwardly at the edge of the bed and fights off the urge to go jump out the window that still shows the forest. She fights off the urge to scream.

Instead, she slowly gets out of bed and thinks to herself how unfair the games are. She clenches her teeth, slowly walking toward the roof with the unfairness of this all resting on her shoulders. When she does reach the roof

(it feels like it took her years)

Katniss suspects it's fully twelve by now.

"What are you doing here?"

She does not turn around because that voice, which is always like a dagger coated with ice belongs to Cato. She lifts her face to meet his blue, blue eyes which look haunted. Katniss tells herself it's because he still has that prey look in his eyes. His eyes narrow slightly, and suddenly she is the prey and he is the predator.

"I am looking at the stars"- Katniss retorts, her words bordering on truth but mostly lies- "to see if I should be afraid for my future."

His mouth turns up in sneer. "Maybe you should be."

His words sound certain, leaving no room for arguments so Katniss ask Cato: "What about you? Are you afraid?"

Cato turns back to her and she widens her eyes because there is something about him in his cheekbones and the way his mouth turns up like a dagger when he smiles. She takes a step backward, and not for the first time she realizes he is dangerous.

It is just that thought keeps leaving her over and over again like a bird flying away from its predator. Oddly enough, it always comes back.

His voice is quiet like a weary victory. "I am afraid – not just for myself but for the others as well." He pauses uncertainly then barks at her, "I know I look like I don't care but" – his eyes narrow and Katniss' head is screaming danger – "I do." He turns toward the capitol with all its glittering lights. "What about you? Are you afraid for your future," he adds in a snarl.

Horror grips her throat and she sputters out in strangled voice: "yes I am."

He turns back to her and raises one sleek eyebrow. "Really, fire girl? I thought your thing with lover boy" - and here his face screws up in disgust – "would keep you confident."

"You know," he hurriedly adds when he sees the look of disbelief of her face, "like your lover will protect you and you don't have to worry about anything."

She smiles mirthlessly and it is not unkind. "You mean use him."

"Whatever, 12 scum. I'm just saying your life in the games won't be pleasant."

Katniss feels the fire in her soul trying to burn her act of indifference but she swallows it all down. "Oh why is that? Am I any difference?"

He stiffens and his jaw tightens. "Because you outsmarted the game makers, 12 and no one else did. You only did; what luck you posses."

She blinks at him. "You didn't?"

His voice is back to ice. "No, I just played my part like everyone else did."

She tilts her head at him, trying to connect the dots Cato has given her but instead sees a boy in front of her.

She does not see a killing machine.

He smiles wryly and says in a voice that could break glass, "You were just you, girl on fire. Be happy about it."

"Really? Well, I'm afraid that the monsters will come and get me now."

He chuckles darkly at her and the look in his eyes sharpen. "What do you know about monsters, anyways?"

Her voice goes quiet in stilled whisper. "I know enough about them."

"Yeah? Where do you look for them?"

Her voice is as sharp as a shard of glass. "What? I look for them in my head!"

He stares at her slowly until the tips of his lips turn upward in a grin that reminds her of the wolf from little Red Riding Hood. The whites of his teeth show and it reminds her of a horrified kind of white silence.

"Aren't you smart?" he says then pauses. "I stopped looking for monsters under my bed a long time ago."

She swallows. "Then, where do you look for them, Cato?"

The presence of his name startles her or maybe it is the fact that she knows his name. He turns his head toward the city lights and she can feel the ice in the air.

"I, "he drawls, "look for monsters inside of me."

They lapse into a kind of silence that is louder than her thoughts. Katniss glances at him and sees a boy trying to break free from the ice. She sees herself as trying to flee the fire in her soul. She closes her eyes and understands that she will always be burning and he will always be frozen in time.

'How utterly sad,' she thinks as he turns toward her and notices his eyes are encased in ice

"I can't wait when you fall to your death, fire girl. I can't wait!" he snarls at her. She should be afraid; she thinks as his breathing becomes ragged but she is not. The way he says it – broken and pathetically human – makes her sad.

"The same to you."

The swiftness of her reply makes him unnerved. He brushes it off. He also brushes off that her eyes are full of fire.

"Well," she mutters, heading toward the door, "happy hunger games."

"Happy hunger games," he echoes and Cato feels as if she stranded him here.

And Katniss feels just a bit more alone.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, if this is trash...I'm going to go cry in a hole. Like I mentioned before, I would appreciate it if you find any errors at all. I might continue this and if I do, it will take place during the cornucopia scene. I don't know I will continue this at all because writing drains your inspiration _fast._ So this will remain a one-shot until I decide otherwise. Anyways, leave a review and come check out my tumblr. Link should be in my bio.

Bye!


End file.
